How to be Dead
by LethalIngenuity
Summary: Canada should never have existed. Matthew Williams does not belong in this world. But when his own world is suddenly demanding the return of their nation, Alfred is willing to do all he can to get his brother back. Even if they aren't really brothers.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm not your brother Alfred. I'm not Matthew Williams either. The fact of the matter is that Canada should never have existed. I never belonged here. And I can't ignore the fact that they need me back home. You can't stop me."<em>

* * *

><p>Alfred stood alone on one of the many balconies the hotel had to offer, the dress shirt he wore just minutes before was now strewn over the floor. He exhaled deeply, trying to disengage that detestable feeling at the bottom of his stomach. His hand reached to brush a few strands of blonde hair from his sky blue eyes, as he tried to recount what exactly happened in the meeting. There was nothing unusual, just the usual chatter, ramblings, and arguments. They had taken a momentary break, and were all given the pleasure of being able to rest in their rooms. All around the young man was blue sky and white clouds, but not too far off was the bustling city of Toronto, the distant cries of cars still edging their his ear. Monarch butterflies fluttered about in the fields below, birds chirping merrily and flying above.<p>

But Alfred did not care for such scenery, nor was he ever one to pay attention to such details. The words of even the most distinguished poet would be lost on him, because really, he would rather be living life than staring at it. But at this peculiar moment, there was one thing that had gained all his attention. Below him, leaning amongst the trees, was his brother, Matthew Williams.

The connection between Canada and America was strong, but the connection between Matthew and Alfred was even stronger. Borders were blurred, and it didn't matter that they were separate people; Alfred would faintly feel the damage to Canada, and the same worked vice versa. No other nation had ever felt that way, save for the Italian brothers, but they didn't count. They both represented one country.

So when Matthew had burst out of the meeting room as soon as break was called when he would normally wait for him, Alfred knew immediately that something was wrong. And the worry was gnawing away at him, eating up his insides. He had thought it better to give his brother some space, but he couldn't wait anymore. He hopped over the railing and landed on the ground with a thud; but this did not even manage to surprise his brother. In fact, it seemed as if his brother was rather expectant of this, and did not bother to turn around. He raised his hand as a silent gesture of a greeting.

"Three stories high and you still don't break a leg. Should I have been amazed or should I just shake my head and say, 'as expected of my stupid brother.'" Then Matthew turned towards Alfred, his blue eyes turning violet in the sunlight, a small smile etched on his face. He spoke, in that soft voice of his. "As expected of my stupid brother."

"Why did you run out so fast? You usually wait up for me." Alfred didn't beat around the bush. He went straight to the point.

"You wouldn't believe me."

Alfred approached Matthew, broadening his shoulders and aiming his chest high.

"Try me."

But Alfred's attempt at intimidation was a lost cause, because all Matthew did was shake his head. "No. You wouldn't believe me if I explained,"

"Mattie, tell me what's up. I won't stop asking until you do. "

Matthew, quiet Matthew, was just as stubborn as Alfred. He stood there, not uttering a word. It was a silent refusal, but a refusal nonetheless. But his eyes suddenly lit up, and there was a mischievous grin on his face.

"Please don't go crazy if I tell you the truth."

"You're my brother Mattie. I'll believe anything you say."

For the briefest of moments, there was a forlorn look on Matthew's face. Then it was gone, replaced by a devilish grin. Alfred didn't even believe it was there, and couldn't believe that today, Matthew was acting rather devious.

"I was first known as Alfred F. Jones, never Matthew Williams. As a nation, I am Canada, but at the same time, I'm not. My true name is the Federal Republic of America, but other nations refer to me as F.R.A, or just America, for short. I represent the entire North American continent, except for Mexico. "

There was a long silence which Alfred tried to extinguish by forcing out some haughty laughter. Not long after, his brother joined in, adding a small chuckle. Alfred patted Matthew on the back.

"Wow bro. Hope you didn't stay up all night making that up, because that was a horrible joke."

Matthew smiled and laughed with Alfred, but for a different reason. He knew that Alfred would eventually forget this moment, and would continue living on in an ignorant bliss. He knew that Alfred would never believe, and to be honest, Matthew preferred it that way. It was better that Alfred didn't believe, better for the both of them.

But unbeknownst to Matthew, the time was soon coming where he could no longer ignore the fact that he didn't belong in this world. He doesn't know that his world is desperately calling out his name; his world is in dire need of his help.

And unbeknownst to Alfred, the time was soon coming where he would find out that Matthew Williams was never his brother. Matthew Williams is actually Alfred F. Jones, but only from another dimension.

But neither of them have to know this now. And it is better this way, because soon, these frivolous and blissful days will come to an end.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This is another, "Should I continue this story?" fics  
>Reviews are loved!<p> 


	2. Disappearance

**Chapter 1:  
>The Disappearance <strong>

* * *

><p>"You'll be back soon, right?"<p>

Canada put on his most reassuring smile and spoke in the voice that was almost identical to America's, albeit the softness. "It's just a check up. I'll be fine."

_Then why did you scream. I can still hear you screaming._

Blue eyes scanned over his Northern American brother, lingering over the lower half of his body.

Canada had said nothing about the burns.

America would never have known if he didn't forget his cell phone; he never would have returned to that meeting room to find his brother where he never would have found his brother, whimpering on the floor, clutching his legs close to his chest. He never would have seen the way England had froze when he had seen him, never would have seen that brief glimpse of fear, and never would have seen the emotion on England's face as his expression contorted into rage and he screamed, "_Get out, get out!" _And if he had listened to England, if only he had just picked up his phone and left, he never would have seen how Canada's pant legs were rolled up to his knees, and the _raw, pink, flesh_that encompassed both of Canada's legs. And he never would have known that this was an ongoing issue, and that England had been taking care of Canada for quite a while now.

America had argued, _he's my goddamn brother, it should be me taking care of him, you live on the other side of the damn ocean,_ and had said it out of spite, because _why was this such a secret, why are you both hiding this from me?_ And eventually, England got the message and grudgingly left, leaving America to take care of his brother. But it was then, during the dead of the night, America would wake up because Canada was screaming, screaming incoherent words, screaming until his lungs gave out. America would check Canada's wounds, and see that they were fresh, raw skin, always bleeding. The constant thought, _this can't be a war, I would know, we share a border,_ had crossed America's mind, but he couldn't help but ask, _why are these burns so different. Why do they keep coming back?_

And now here they are, Canada having convinced his brother that it was a human issue, it had nothing to do with politics or economy, it was just Matthew Williams that experienced the burns. So as Matthew Williams, Canada would visit the doctor, had insisted that he do it alone. Because Matthew Williams did not want to feel weak, he would do this alone, to show America that he was fine.

"But you'll be back soon, right?" The worry was evident in America's voice.

"It's just a check up." Canada responded. His pet polar bear tugged on Canada's leg, and America could clearly see that it pained him. But with such tenderness, Canada leaned down and ruffled the bear's fur, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Take care of Kumajirou while I'm gone." Canada had said.

"But it's just a check up, you _have_to be back soon." America complained, because if it really was just a check up, Canada wouldn't be long, right?

Canada said nothing. He merely limped out of his household, into his car, and drove off.

Canada never came back.

* * *

><p>"Just come."<p>

"I don't see the point in coming; Matthew may be young as a nation, but as a human he is tenfold that of the age of what he looks like. We can't coddle him. He'll come back when he does."

"He hasn't called me. At all. That's really not like him."

"Has it ever come to your mind that maybe Matthew wants some space?"

There was a slight pause, and when Alfred spoke, anguish had filled his voice. "I did think that. For the first two months. But it's been seven months, Arthur, he would have called by now, he's not that selfish or fool hardy." There was a time for ignorance and play. This was not one of those times.

Then Alfred had almost smiled because the silence indicated that Arthur had agreed with him. And then Alfred _did _smile, when Arthur had said, "I'll be there as soon as I can."

* * *

><p><em>"I'm sorry. I have to go." Arthur leaned down, and lightly kissed the colony on the forehead. The little colony cocked his head to the side, not understanding. "Can't you stay? Pleaaaaase!"<em>

_Arthur chuckled and ruffled his colony's blonde hair, and duly noted the errant curl that refused to stay in line with the rest of the child's wavy blonde hair. "I can't stay. I have things to do. But dear, I'll be back."_

_The child nodded, only understanding the part where Arthur promised to come back. Smiling softly, Arthur strode out the door, out of the house where his colony resided. But to his surprise, no sooner had he done so had his colony ran after him, crying, and holding a small white stuffed bear that Arthur had made so the little child wouldn't be so lonely._

_"Take this!" the colony said as he thrust two short arms at Arthur, the white bear raised high above his head. "Take this! Kumajirou protects me when I'm scared, so he'll protect you when you're scared!"_

_With a little chortle, Arthur graciously accepted the stuffed bear. Even though he had created it, it was another nation that named it. Japan had grown close to Arthur's little colony, and had expressed his care in small ways, like naming the stuffed bear. "I promise I'll be back." He said, as he tucked the white bear in the inside of his coat. "I have to come back now, so I can return this to you."_

_His colony beamed, and Arthur had thought that maybe, this child was more cunning then he was given credit._

_The two embraced one last time._

_And then Arthur was gone._

* * *

><p>"What exactly are we looking for?"<p>

"I don't know. Anything. Something."

Alfred fumbled with the drawers, anxiously pulling each one open and close, hoping to find a clue. He doesn't even exactly know what he was looking for; he didn't even know _what_to look for. But he needed to look, because something needed to be found.

Arthur refused to tell Alfred anything. Arthur had obviously known something, but he's just so goddamn _British _he won't admit he knows anything.

Or maybe Alfred is just so afraid that Arthur really doesn't know anything.

* * *

><p><em>Green eyes scanned the horizon, watching as the sun lightly touched upon the ocean. Sandy blonde hair capped by a tri-coloured hat, waistcoat and breeches a rich blue. He sighed, as he felt the cool and pointed tip of a blade at the back of his neck.<em>

_"Privateers," the man behind him sneered, his voice covered thick with a Spanish accent. "They are the same as Pirates. Barbaric. Rude. Uncouth."  
><em>  
><em>Arthur couldn't help but snicker. "Then in this world, we are all privateers."<em>

_The blade pressed a bit further. "Do not speak to me so cryptically."_

_And now, Arthur felt the heat. He felt the heat of his burning, sinking ship. But that wasn't all. He felt the intense burning sensation in his heart, and recognized that all too familiar and loathing voice that was deep and French say, "Turn around."_

_He turned to face his two greatest enemies. He turned to face his burning ship, two pointed swords, and two nations smiling ever so eagerly at his demise._

_"Your capital is burning." Francis stated matter-of-factly. "England is in hell. You are lost."_

_Arthur numbly nodded, and held on to the railing for support, trying his best to hide his pain, because he was stronger than this, he was better than them, he didn't want to show them weakness._

_"Quickly," Antonio urged. "This ship is going down, and I am not as willing as Inglaterra to sleep with the fishes."_

_"I want to see him suffer." Francis sneered. Because Francis was always one to hold a grudge, especially after Arthur had burned that girl on a stake._

_And Arthur didn't mind going down in flames. He would have surely fought to the death, in a battle where he knew he was already dying, because they had already destroyed England and there was nothing binding him to this world anymore._

_Except for one thing._

_America._

* * *

><p>"You check the washroom, I'll check the kitchen!"<p>

"What exactly would Matthew be hiding in the washroom?"

Alfred shoulders sagged. "Please just check for me."

And because no matter what, even though Alfred was loud and obnoxious, Alfred was still Arthur's colony and Arthur hated to see him so gloomy, so he entered Matthew's washroom, not sure what to look for.

He searched the cabinets, under the sink, in the shower, but nothing. And when he was to inspect the mirror for a hint of something missing, he gasped, and almost jumped. Because in the mirror was his reflection.

And his reflection.

Beside him was _him_, dressed in clothing he had worn during his privateer days, dressed in that rich blue that was usually stained with crimson red. Green eyes feral, mouth in a scowl. And it was so real, the reflection was so real, he was sure if he turned he would be staring at this past version of himself.

And he turned.

But the only thing there was Matthew's pet bear, Kumajirou, who merely snarled and walked out of the room. _That strange thing, walking on two legs, and Arthur was sure that was even capable of speech._

Arthur turned back to the mirror.

The pirate was gone.

* * *

><p><em>He had one last plan.<em>

_Arthur held his hands up in surrender, a move that definitely confused both Francis and Antonio. Slowly, he placed his hand in his coat pocket and couldn't help but chuckle at the way Francis and Antonio readily moved into a fighting position._

_"You are both so eager to cut me down." He commented, as he drew out a white stuffed polar bear._

_Francis eyed it curiously. "The toy your little colony carries around?"_

_Arthur ignored Francis, his eyes dead set on Antonio."You have a colony of your own, do you not? One that you treasure dearly."_

_The Spaniard wearily nodded but had understood what it was that Arthur wanted._

_Arthur felt his power draining, not just because he was losing his power as a nation, but because he was transferring his very life force. It was a move taught to him long ago, by a warlock, a fairy, a witch, he wasn't really sure. And he wasn't sure he remembered exactly how to do it or if he was doing it correctly, but because he felt himself being sucked out of his body and his vision was becoming dark, he was sure he was doing something right. Soon he was on his knees, and oh the irony, he had promised himself he would never kneel before either of these two. And the two would think nothing of it, they would just believe this is what happened when a great nation fell; this is what happens during the death of a nation._

_And the world was becoming cold, which was odd because he was on a burning ship. And he could vaguely feel as Antonio plucked the stuffed bear out of his grasp, and the last words he heard were not even a good bye, not even a, 'you were a great rival.' The last words he heard was from the Spaniard, as he said, "Francis, it would pain me so much to give this to the little colony, I can not bear to see him cry. Will you do it for me?"_

* * *

><p>"I know where he went."<p>

Both Arthur and Alfred whipped around, surprised at the sound of the voice. Alfred looked at Arthur worriedly, as if thinking, _was it just me who heard that?_

"I know where he went." Repeated the small white polar bear, reaffirming what both Alfred and Arthur had thought.

Alfred knelt down, so that he was on eye level with the polar bear. "Where did he go?" Alfred asked anxiously.

And then the polar bear turned to Arthur, and pointed with his paw.

"He knows where he went."

Arthur scowled. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do!"

"Do you Arthur?" Alfred questioned, his eyes full of fatigue, his body now sagging from exhaustion. Alfred was lacking his usual lustre.

"I don't, I promise." Arthur really didn't know. He honestly didn't know. How could he know? The only thing he did for the boy was take care of him when he was hurt, because for some reason Matthew had came to Arthur and not Alfred. But Arthur accepted it as a pride thing, because Matthew never wanted to show he was weak around Alfred.

"You do." the polar bear said with a growl, "You just don't remember."

And then it looked as if the polar bear was smiling as it opened its mouth, revealing its full set of sharp teeth.

"I can take you to him."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I'm still deciding whether or not I'm going to continue this.  
>But tell me what you think, reviews are always welcomed and loved!<p> 


	3. Trap

**Chapter 2:  
>The Trap<strong>

* * *

><p><em>There exists a child.<em>

_Wandering the gargantuan land mass which has yet to be fully tamed, there exists a child._

_A child with radiant cerulean eyes and short wavy hair, clutching a dirty and ragged stuffed white polar bear._

_He wanders in hopes of finding someone._

_Someone who has long since disappeared._

_The child cries out a name._

_"England!" The child yells, desperate for a response, knowing he will never get one, knowing his cries will never be heard._

_But one day, while the boy is ambling about, mourning and crying out the name of a nation that has already burned to the ground , the most surprising thing occurs._

_England responds._

* * *

><p>"I hope you haven't actually considered the bear's offer," Arthur said the words to Alfred as he leaned against the door frame, the light illuminating the outline of his figure. "The absurdity of another world… I pray you don't believe any of that nonsense."<p>

Alfred lay on the bed on his back, arms spread wide, face towards the ceiling. Above the bed post hung the Canadian flag, and in the corner of the room laid a worn and frayed hockey stick. Matthew's room was quaint and empty; there was nothing extravagant that stood out, much similar to the owner. "I don't know. I want to believe. And I don't."

Both men were dressed in casual attire; neither had intended to stay the night. But it seemed that the situation had required such, because the disappearance of Matthew seemed to reveal a deeper and darker truth and neither could just simply run back to their countries. Or rather, at Alfred's insistence, it was his duty as brother, and Arthur's duty as a former caretaker to ensure Matthew's safety.

Even if it meant listening to a polar bear talk about a different dimension.

"If there is another world, how do you expect to arrive at such? The bear is a talking bear; clearly it will be through magical-" Arthur ignored the small chuckle from Alfred, "- means. Dark magic at that. We should disassociate ourselves from that bear, and go straight to Williams' government. Surely parliament may know something."

"But what if they don't?" came the response. "What if right now, Mattie is rotting away somewhere? You saw the burns. They were unnatural, they should have healed but they _didn't. _The scars that mark our body are proof of every battle that raged on our lands," Alfred lightly traced at the scar on his abdomen that cut through in a horizontal line, his fingers feeling the small grove through his cotton shirt. "We are the living proof of what was not recorded down in history. You and I both know that those burns can only occur through warfare… Warfare raging on the southern half of Canada."

"There is no war. You, his neighbouring country would know that much."

"Exactly! Do you see what I'm getting at? What if the polar bear is right – what if his wounds are from a war in a _different _world?"

"That is just only one of the farces that the bear had mentioned. Do you remember what else he said? It's impossible for Williams to maintain a stable position in our world, which is why at times we are unable to see him. He even claimed that our minds are still unable to comprehend his existence that we may momentarily forget who he is!"

"You're just making more valid points for the bear's side, Arthur."

"No, they are not valid, they are easily explainable through _normal _means. The boy is quiet and barely says anything. His role in history is barely known, thus the reason why other nations don't remember him."

"You _did _overshadow him during the World Wars. All his efforts were under your name."

"And you the way your text books put it, World War II started off with the bombing of pearl harbour and include minimal participation from the Canadians. But I digress; there is a logical explanation for everything, even his disappearance."

There was a brief interlude of silence before Alfred spoke out in a quite dejected tone. "I just want my brother back."

Arthur had to resist the urge to say, _if it were by your logic, Williams isn't even your brother._But instead, he slowly closed the door shut.

Tea. He needed tea.

* * *

><p><em>It was while he was sitting at home enjoying the fruits of his labour had a voice ravaged his mind.<em>

_"England!" the voice ever so familiar, had shouted."England!"_

_He fell to his knees, the voice strong and the emotion powerful and overwhelming, the grief soon becoming his own._

_He knew this voice._

_"England!" the voice had shouted once again in his mind._

_Fluttering over him and buzzing frantically were several of the faeries, sharing murmured words._

_"Arthur, what's wrong?" they asked. "What's wrong?"_

_"Bring me…" his voice was slurred and the words dropped heavily. But he knew he was not drunk. "Bring me the boy."_

_"Who?" they buzzed about. Annoying little things. "What boy?"_

_"The boy that is crying out my name! I can feel his anguish, why and how, I do not know. Regardless, he is in pain and screaming my name. Bring him to me."_

_The faeries had stopped their frenzy, and had all slowed down to the point where their fluttering wings became a steady heart beat._

_Arthur pounded his fist into the wooden floor board. "Damn you, bring me America!" The boy's cries were still loud, and Arthur had trouble concentrating on their response._

_"Who?" one brave faerie had asked. "The boy who is crying, or your America?"_

_Arthur spat in disgust. "They are one and the same! Bring to me the boy who is crying!"_

_The faeries looked at each other, exchanging worried looks._

_"There are consequences." They stated in unison._

_In his agitated state, Arthur scrutinized the faeries – something he normally would not dare do. "Then they are mine. They will be on my shoulders."_

_Hesitant glances shared among the small creatures. Then they finally spoke, together in time._

_"It will be done."_

_The bawling from within Arthur's mind suddenly stopped, but a new cry elicited from in front of him. Wasting no time, he barrelled forward and grasped the small boy into a tight embrace._

_"You are safe," he murmured._

_The child tightly clutched on to Arthur's white linen shirt, which was stained in – blood? Arthur tipped the boys head upwards._

_"Poppet, open your eyes." He softly whispered._

_The child did, and Arthur tried to prevent the small gasp from escaping. The tears the boy cried were of blood, and he watched as the child's bright cerulean eyes slowly faded into a dull violet hue._

_"Consequences." Is what a faerie had repeated, but Arthur ignored it._

_"What happened love? Tell me, what made you cry?"_

_The child said nothing but instead flung his arms about, in one hand he held on to a small white bear._

_"The bear," The faeries whispered. "There's something wrong about the bear."_

_They once again began flying in a frenzy, which startled the child even more. He dug his head into Arthur's shirt while at the same time hugging the bear tightly._

_"Be gone." Arthur had commanded, and with a snap of his fingers, the faeries had disappeared._

_"I was so scared!" The child cried. "France told me you were dead! I looked everywhere for you, Arthur! And my people – they kept talking and saying you were gone! Arthur I was so scared!"_

_"Hush," Arthur breathed gently into America's ear. "I'm here now,"_

* * *

><p>Alfred had pinned Arthur down to the floor. Arthur desperately clawed at the hand enveloping his throat.<p>

"Alfred…" He managed to choke out.

Alfred smiled, to the point where Arthur could count every single tooth.

"Concentrate. I know my disguise is impenetrable, but it is not perfect." Alfred said.

"I… don't know… what… I'm looking… at" Every word uttered was a word closer to death.

The force of Alfred's hand came down harder, and Arthur found himself wheezing for a breath of air.

"You have the ability to distinguish me from him. You can see me." Alfred snarled.

And then Arthur did see him. He saw _himself _in Alfred.

"Who…are…you…" Arthur's vision was turning black around the edges.

"Do not take it personally," Alfred had said with a smile, "This all could have been avoided. Alas, you refused to sleep, so I had to possess someone else." He chuckled a bit to himself. "Magic is such a tedious thing, it is much easier when the person you are to possess is unable to resist."

And then it came to Arthur.

"You're… the bear…"

"No." Alfred's eyes narrowed and his grin grew even wider.

As Arthur's vision began to fade to black, he felt something enter him, devouring his mind. He felt his body become limp, and soon he had lost all motor function. Then, there was a voice in his mind that sounded unquestionably familiar. And it spoke, echoing throughout his mind.

"I am England."

* * *

><p><em>"We are almost at your home." Arthur whispered, holding the small child in his arms. The child had been oddly quiet, unlike his usual rambunctious self.<em>

_"Here we are," he stated, as he placed the small child down in front of the door. But he didn't even have to touch the door knob, because the door burst open and another child flew at him._

_"Arthur! You're home!" The child had yelled, and snuggled his face into Arthur's chest._

_"Who-"_

_Then Arthur saw the cerulean eyes, the blonde hair, and the gigantic grin plastered on the child's face. In bewilderment, his gaze switched from the child who lay on top of him to the child standing at the door. They looked exactly the same, albeit the colour of the eyes._

_"Alfred?" Arthur had called out, dreading what would happen next._

_Both little boys turned towards him, one his face behind the white bear he carried, the other placing two elbows on Arthur's chest and holding up his head in his hands._

_"Yes Arthur?" They both responded._

_The faeries' words echoed throughout Arthur's mind._

_Consequences._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong>

Updates will be short and sporadic. It _may_ be a long time before you see this story updated again.

A new meaning to the word, 'self-possession'.

Sorry if I offended anyone with the textbook thing (I thought the war started with Pearl Harbour, don't blame me, blame Medal of Honor). I have an American friend who has no idea what the Canadians did during WWII. Then again, the same person had said, "Hitler wasn't in WWII."

There _will_ be a _bit_ of USUK, but in an entirely different concept.

Poor Matthew, where are you?


	4. Battle

"Yo America! What the FUCK are you doing? We're being raided, and you're just lying in bed? What the hell, man!"

In an attempt to ignore the screaming man, Matthew Williams pulls the bed covers above his head and assumes fetal position, hoping the fuming Italian won't realize he's there. If you can't see them, they can't see you, right? Unfortunately Lovino Vargas has never heard of this logic, and the representation of the Italian States rips the blanket away from Matthew.

"You gonna help me blow some heads off or what?"

"Or what. Leave me alone, let me sleep."

Lovino grabs Matthew by the shoulders and throws him on to the wooden floor boards. Matthew had forgotten how much stronger the Italian States is than South Italy. But that's okay; he'll have a concussion to remember it by.

"Damn it, Federal States of America, you better get up on your ass, grab a gun, and come with me to shoot some Prussian fuckers or I'll be shooting YOU in the balls."

Uh oh, Lovino was using Matthew's full name. Knowing the Italian, he probably _would_shoot Matthew in the balls. That was never pleasant.

"Okay, _Stati Uniti d'italiana_, I'm getting up so don't piss your pants over some dead Prussians."

"Bastard! That was only once!"

"Whatever."

Matthew flips himself off the floor and slips his feet into the boots at his bed. He's already dressed in uniform and all he needs to do is grab a gun and he's ready to shoot a bitch. As Matthew and Lovino rush out of the tent into the dark night, the latter decides this is an opportune moment for conversation.

"You know, while you've been off pretending to be Canadia-"

"It's Canada, damn it!"

"-while you've been off pretending to be some bull shit non-existent nation, the world over here has been ending."

Matthew pulls Lovino out of the way just in time to avoid a grenade. He grits his teeth as he sees three silhouettes illuminated by the fire up ahead of them. He takes aim at the one in the middle, and shoots. The head is blown off, but it's still walking. Fucking reanimated corpses.

"I'm not _pretending_ to be Canada, I _am_Canada. It exists. I exist!"

"So which one are you; The Federal States of America, or Canada?"

"Both!" Matthew can feel the pain when either nation is attacked, when each nation goes to war. It's basically how he found out that the FSA was nuked.

Finally, after shooting off their arms and legs, the three enemy soldiers are down and dead. Well, dead-er. The two nations turn the heads towards the fire and flames, towards their encampment. They've managed to run quite a distance, but they can still hear the screams in both French and Italian, they can feel as each and every soldier dies.

"_God bless their soul_," Matthew mumbles, as he watches more Prussian soldiers flank their campgrounds.

"What the fuck? Did you just talk in English? That language died four hundred years ago."

Matthew cringes. He remembers that in this world, English died when Britain burned to the ground, when Scotland and Ireland and all of those places were taken over by French, when all the English settlements in America were ransacked.

"Yes, I was. Now let's get the hell out of here; even though we can't die, I don't feel up in the mood for it."

"What kind of dumbass feels in the mood for dying?"

"I don't know. A dumb one?"

After what was possibly thirty minutes, the two sit themselves down and watch the carnage. The screams are no longer audible, and every time a soldier dies it just leaves a faint tingling sensation in their hearts. Matthew takes his canteen out, gulps down a bit of water, and hands it to Lovino. Without even thanking him, the Italian snatches it a way and greedily downs the rest.

"So what's it like, being Canada?"

Matthew leans back on his hands and stares at the black billowing smoke that was once their camp.

"You believe me?"

Lovino scoffs. "Fuck no. Well maybe. No not really, but – okay fuck you."

Matthew laughs, and Lovino punches him on the shoulder. Matthew punches him back, and soon they're rolling in dirt trying to kick each other's balls. Matthew gets the upper hand, and he pins Lovino down to the ground.

"Get the fuck off me!"

"Shut up, I'm going to tell you what it's like to be Canada."

Lovino is about to protest, but Matthew positions his knee threateningly above the Italians crotch. Matthew pretends to contemplate.

"Canada – I'm really quiet when I'm Canada. No one really notices me. I've got this transparent thing going on because I don't really belong in their world. I'm usually overshadowed by either the United States – the parallel version of me- or England, who is still alive. And…" Matthew lowers his body and leans his head down right beside Lovino's. Then in a soft and absolutely seductive voice, he whispers, "And I talk really softly, like this."

Their bodies are lightly touching, and Lovino blushes but retains a hardened expression. "Do you… are you close w-with the parallel me?"

Matthew pulls back, his face stoic. Lovino can practically feel the temperature drop.

"No. We're close but not that close. You and your brother are… my 11th largest export? We're also in the UN, G8, and NATO. Oh, you probably don't even know what those are."

Lovino is staring at Matthew mouth hanging, eyes wide and threatening to tear. Matthew can tell that he has said something wrong.

"Feliciano is alive?" Lovino asks in disbelief. Oh shit, Matthew forgot all about _that_.

Just then, an arm emerges out of the ground and wraps itself around Lovino's neck. In one brisk movement Matthew takes the night hanging off Lovino's belt and slices the arm. Then Matthew and Lovino realize that they better get the fuck out of there right now because more arms are popping out of the ground, and those arms belong to bodies, and those bodies have guns.

"Like fucking flowers!" Lovino shouts, as Matthew pulls him to his feet. The two are off again, only bullets follow them closely. There's a sudden pang in his legs, and Matthew trips and falls. His legs still haven't fully recovered from that nuclear attack, and judging by the pain in his thighs, the smoke was coming upwards. Lovino curses and hauls Matthew over his shoulder, fireman style.

"You're lucky I'm a super power, you son of a bitch."

"I'm a hyper power."

"Fuck you."

Matthew laughs, giddy from pain, and goes limp in Lovino's arms.

* * *

><p>kinda filler-ish but hey, y'all are probably like, "where the hell is Canada?"<br>South Italy/Lovino is The United States of Italy.  
>It's not a zombie apocalypse either.<br>This story is going on HIATUS.


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